Page:Arthur Stringer - The Hand of Peril.djvu/163

 She stared at him with widened eyes.

"What's the man ravin' about?" she asked of the circumambient taxi-hood.

"Eight Lambert counterfeit plates sewn up in a chamois," explained Kestner.

"Not in my vanity-bag!" averred Sadie.

"But in this taxi," insisted Kestner.

"Search me!" protested Sadie.

"That's what I'll have to do," intimated Kestner. He slipped a hand into the muff lying on her knees, and found it empty.

"Say, Mister Slooth, haven't you got your numbers mixed?" asked the pitying Sadie.

"It's no use, Sadie. I know. And this is only wasting time and words. I want those eight plates!"

"Then you're go in' to do some slick stage-conjurin'!"

"All right, but I'll get them!"

"I know a plate when I see it, an' I ain't handled one since meal-time!"

"Sadie, we're wasting time. I know what I'm after, and I know that you've got it. Do I get it now, or do we have to go to Bowling Green and see Captain Henry and waste a nice morning in the federal offices?"

"But I tell you I ain't got any plates!"

"And you didn't leave Maura Lambert's hotel-room ten minutes ago?" demanded Kestner.

"Rave away," said the resigned Sadie. But she stirred a little uneasily.

"Sadie, I don't want to spoil your chances about brushing cigar-ashes off anybody's vest-front, but